


Feral

by 4lis



Series: trans yusaku smut for the soul [4]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Leashes, M/M, Trans Male Character, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 22:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18417143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4lis/pseuds/4lis
Summary: There’s a sort of hypnotized hunger in the way Takeru gawks down at him, wide-eyed and far, far too earnest. It makes Yusaku’s heart hurt but makes every other part of him shiver and ache with the type of pain only his bare skin can ameliorate. Takeru claws at his knees. He keeps licking his lips, rearranging his mouth as he sits still on his knees awaiting the word.





	Feral

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Yusaku is trans in this fic. I refer to Yusaku's part as being a pussy at one point. If this is triggering language for you particularly, please exercise caution.

There’s a sort of hypnotized hunger in the way Takeru gawks down at him, wide-eyed and far, far too earnest. It makes Yusaku’s heart hurt but makes every other part of him shiver and ache with the type of pain only his bare skin can ameliorate. Takeru claws at his knees. He keeps licking his lips, rearranging his mouth as he sits still on his knees awaiting the word.

Yusaku’s well acquainted with it, the word that is. He lies on his back something falsely helpless and altogether a meal too delectable for Takeru to have all at once. Takeru continues to flinch on his haunches as Yusaku tugs once or twice at the leash strung between them, wresting the collar from where it sits sweaty, sticking to Takeru’s Adam’s apple. His voice comes out wet: “How much do you want it?”

“So badly, Yusaku, I—”

“Slow down,” he whispers, a healing tone in his voice. “Tell me what you’d do to me if I let you.”

Parting his thighs further, Yusaku holds back the quaking moan that threatens to pulse through him and out of his mouth when Takeru looks down. His pretty little pussy is stuffed to the brim with a bright red ribbed toy. It sits quiet and untouched but oh, how he’s leaked out so much love around it that it pools into the bed beneath him. Pressing his knees to his chest proves that much, giving Takeru a front row seat to the waterfall—how much slick has ran down to coat his pucker, vulnerable and begging for attention.

Takeru closes his eyes, shuddering with the breath he holds in (no doubt for self-control) and starts slow: “I’d p-put my fingers inside you. You’re already so ready down there. I bet it wouldn’t take much at all.”

“Take much at all for what?” Yusaku asks, watching as Takeru fumbles to keep up, the blush radiating down his cheeks and into his throat; when he opens his mouth, saliva strings.

“My cock.”

“Do you think I’m loose?” The question comes out plain, and still a gunshot in a dead silent room.

Yusaku wraps the leather of the leash around his damp finger a few times, drawing Takeru nearer as Takeru’s voice does a magnificent dive into something harsher—something _darker_ that he’s starved himself to hear.

“I think you already fucked yourself open on your fingers for me.”

It’s then that Yusaku feels pulled under by something magical, sexual or otherwise. Pleasure ripples through his body at the answer and he can’t control the way his breath catches at it. It’s an opening, a moment of weakness, he realizes, when Takeru crawls the rest of the way to him and slots himself between his legs.

In all ways except physical, Takeru has already entered him.

“I’d slip so deep inside of you, so easily, and…”

As if he’d suddenly lost the nerve, Takeru stops to breathe and then Yusaku feels a tap against the toy inside him. “I’d turn this on.”

Even just the slight jostle makes a tremor rush out of Yusaku, like through this moment he is being exorcised. It isn’t until he realizes Takeru’s got the slightest twinkle of a smile that Yusaku thinks control might be slipping from him. It makes his legs, however bent and pressed against him, _jelly._

Yusaku tries to speak and Takeru’s voice overlaps with his own.

“Would you now—”

“I’m doin’ this right now, aren’t I? Y-you want me to, uh… be aggressive with you.”

A troubled tilt in Yusaku’s eyebrows accompanies his weak, fangless remark: “Shut up.”

Jerking the leash down to his hip, Yusaku pokes his nose into the temple of Takeru’s skull, deriving pleasure from the way he grunts and seems to hover over him now, knowing he’s not allowed to touch yet. The feel of their skin meeting at last even in such a distant way has Yusaku writhing with restraint beneath him.

He wants to see Takeru come apart like pillow stuffing and fill him just as well.

“I want you to _fuck_ me like the good boy you are.”

Takeru smothers a sound.

“You’ve been good, haven’t you?” he asks and Takeru nods too zealously, taking this opportunity to covertly press his face into Yusaku’s neck.

The contact is like lightning and Yusaku makes something of a lazy grin where Takeru can’t see.

“Good boy. Show me that you mean it.”

And Takeru must have felt something close to feral in his veins for how quickly this manifested to him as a thick hoard of marks against Yusaku’s throat and shoulder, each one lighter than the last. Yusaku blooms beneath Takeru’s touch, his body opening up and wrapping around him, vine-like and flowery as Takeru swipes his fingers up, twisting them suddenly into that gentle heat. It fills him with heaven and a bit of hell too—Yusaku muffling himself against his own knuckles in his mouth, leaving the first set of bite marks that weren’t Takeru’s doing (and weren’t _half_ as nasty).

Two fingers knead and pry Yusaku open, lubed up plenty from his own juices. Takeru spits on his hand and slots them back in, his mouth making a habit out of goring his boyfriend’s neck in some fashion resembling a strangled neck mixed with a shattered collarbone in coloration and bruising. Oh, Yusaku’s gonna have to cover that up. He _can’t_ cover that up.

Everyone will just have to know what a good little slut he is, marked up by his man.

The thought makes Yusaku whimper and Takeru’s hand wanders to the vibrator. With just a twist of the bottom, the toy springs to life inside him. Arching up his back with a jolt, Yusaku gasps out hoarsely, holding back the cry that once wanted to creep out of him. Now he doesn’t want to scream—not unless its to Takeru fucking him deep and fucking him open into these sheets.

“Oh, I can feel it from the other side,” Takeru says, scissoring his fingers. “I can feel the vibrations.”

“Imagine,” breathes Yusaku, sticky and overripe at this point, “How it’d feel when you’re inside.”

“Ah,” says Takeru, fucking his fingers faster inside. “You want me inside that badly, huh?”

_“Takeru.”_

His voice breaks from the stimulation, the vibrator rattling around inside and feeling Takeru’s fingers pressing against it. Yusaku wants it so bad: wants that penetration from both sides, wants to feel himself stuffed and unbearably full.

The desperation in his voice does something, he thinks, because Takeru plucks both fingers out and takes to lining himself up without another word.

Not that it bears saying (because it doesn’t), but Takeru grins sanguinely and says, “I just didn’t want to seem too eager.”

“I don’t care,” Yusaku says.

“Fair enough,” says Takeru with a nod, each of his hands forcing Yusaku’s legs further and further apart as he witnesses the vibrator rotating around between them; Yusaku controls his breaths, merely stuttering over them every few seconds like a buffering video.

Takeru takes the vibrator in his hand.

“There we go,” he prefaces it with, before sliding both himself and the vibrator further inside; Yusaku curls his toes up and braces himself against the bed, tugging the leash to signal to Takeru to not pull back out and to fill him all the way.

He stretches. He widens at the size of them both and he whines for it. Yusaku lets a sound escape him that can’t be described nor forgotten—something unmistakably desperate in delivery and yet utterly blissed out in intention: the feeling of getting everything you wanted and yet wanting _more,_ craving an endless scratch to a perpetual itch.

Yusaku grinds into his touch.

“Move,” he demands and Takeru follows after, no doubt spurred on by the vibrations himself.

Takeru moans _deeply._ He plunges himself hard inside Yusaku, pounding into his walls and panting nearly louder than Yusaku does. It always makes Yusaku feel so good, to make him feel that good, to not feel so silly when he lets his voice come out more, get noisier and fill up the space around them knowing that Takeru holds nothing back. He grits his teeth and shivers above Yusaku, his ringing voice echoing out across their bedroom.

“Yusaku, oh god, you feel so good. You feel _amazing.”_

The stress between his legs is unbearable. Yusaku grunts as his legs flop uselessly around Takeru’s waist, melting into his thrusts and leaving only the white hot pleasure threading up through him, licking at his spine and at that special place in his core where both butterfly kisses and deep thrusting goes.

He feels like he’ll break, like he’ll come apart at the seams and that’s _good._

“More,” Yusaku commands. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Takeru cries, voice shaking with a familiar cadence. “I’m so—”

“Don’t come yet,” Yusaku suddenly says and Takeru’s hips yank back with his motions turning jagged with the stress. Yusaku sighs out softly, patiently and so angelically—too much so for what filth falls out. “F-fuck me deeply, and slowly until I’m done.”

Voice hissing with the sharp air he pants in and out, Takeru does as he’s told, spreading Yusaku’s insides open as thoroughly as he can. Yusaku feels his senses starting to reach their limits and he pulls on the leash to plug his lips into Takeru’s, sliding their tongues together and tasting his heart.

It tastes like cinnamon.

“I’m c-close, Takeru.”

“I’ll come when you do,” he says, taking Yusaku’s mouth over with his own, and Yusaku doesn’t doubt it. Soon he’s spilling over the edge with the sensation of infinity surging through him, and his muscles all squeeze fruitlessly around the toy and around Takeru, milking him of all the cum he has left.

It’s convenient, and it makes Yusaku happy to think that his climax can bring Takeru over the edge. It doesn’t even matter to him that his neck is torn apart, or that he came inside. The cleaning out is fun too.


End file.
